Different
by TheSenjuMan
Summary: Peter decided 'Why not' to this blind date. But he wasn't expecting this. One-shot.


9 months.

Nine months since the day. It was a pretty solemn day for Peter Parker, although not as bad as the day Uncle Ben died. It was nine months since Mary Jane Watson, the girl he thought he'd always count on to be there with him, left for California.

_"You're leaving?!" Peter said, aghast._

_Mary Jane sighed and touched his cheek. "Tiger, don't say it like that. It makes it seem like there was something wrong with you."_

_"You mean there's not?" he shot back, sarcastic._

_"You know why I have to do this," MJ began. "I wanna go forward with my acting career. Being on Broadway is great and all that jazz, but California is where I can really stretch my wings and see new frontiers. It also means that you can stop relying on me so much; it's tiring, experiencing your life through your constant rants and ravings._

_MJ rolled her luggage toward the opened door. "If things don't work out, maybe we can give this another try. But for now..."_

_Peter, teary-eyed, despondent and with a frown nodded. "I understand. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I couldn't give you what you wanted."_

_"This is not your fault, Peter," MJ reassured. "It's...our paths just don't mesh well. You have your life and I have mine."_

MJ did say that Peter could always call and talk about whatever he needed to with her, but since that day, he had become estranged and refused to speak to her. Call him petty, but it was too painful.

Now Peter was just sitting at a table in a restaurant called the Silver Spoon. It's been his favorite restaurant since his teens and he was surprised to see that it expanded into Manhattan. He came on the advice of his friend Harry, who heard (more like forced to listen) all about the split. He tried cheering Peter up through meaningless parties and more time spent as friends, but it wasn't taking. Peter never really was much of a party person, and call him pathetic, but he was simply too hung up on the emotions of that day.

Peter watched as a young woman came through the door; she walked with a slow, meandering gait, similar to the gait of someone who had the sun in their eyes. Her coat was almost comically oversized, and she had a lime green shirt underneath. Her hair was...unique to say the least. Long, straggly, unkempt brown hair, and what that a braid in their somewhere? Either way, it extended past her hips and close to her knees. She also had glasses on, so maybe that was the reason for her unsure walking.

The young woman caught sight of Peter and moved over to his table, still with her meandering walk. As she arrived, Peter smiled at her.

"Hi," he greeted. "Carlie, right?"

The young woman, Carlie, nodded. "Mhm," she mumbled.

"I'm Peter, but Harry probably told you that already," Peter said, extending his hand out. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

Carlie looked at Peter's hand with uncertainty. She grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer from her coat pocket and spritzed it onto Peter's hand, then shook his hand.

"_Weird,"_ he thought. Looking into her eyes, he saw that behind her glasses, her eyes held a heaviness and weariness that was oddly familiar. He also saw that she had a shield hanging around her neck.

"New York's Finest, huh?" Peter commented, hoping to start some kind of conversation.

Carlie simply nodded and looked at the menu.

"I guess I can see why they call 'em that. They do get themselves into 'fine' messes," Peter joked, chuckling awkwardly.

To his expectance, Carlie didn't laugh at his forced joke; she put down the menu and flagged down the waiter. Peter saw that she didn't speak to tell what she wanted, but merely pointed at the menu to say what her choice was.

_"Kind of a shy one," _Peter internalized. What was also interesting is that during this entire exchange, her expression did not change one bit; blank the entire time.

"Soooo," the Parker man began. "How's it like, being a rough and tumble loose cannon cop who doesn't play by the rules?"

Carlie narrowed her eyes at Peter, which indicated to him that he may have hit a sore spot.

"Uh, ok, no more cop jokes," Peter said. "Well, I guess I can tell you a little bit about myself-"

"What are you for?"

Peter finally heard her voice: nasal, monotone, very clearly from Brooklyn. In all honesty, the voice really didn't match her appearance. But it was the question that threw him off.

"Come again?" Peter asked.

"What are you for?" she repeated, then pointed to herself. "For being a cop. Harry: being a millionaire dimwit. Yourself?"

Peter scratched his head and chuckled. "Uh, that's uh...kind of a deep question to be asking. What do you mean? What's my job, or what?"

Carlie shook her head, her unkempt rat's nest. "Job is not what you're for. Being a cop lets me help people. That's what I'm for."

"I...to be perfectly honest, I don't really know," Peter admitted. "I've drifted back and forth from being a photojournalist to working at Horizon Labs so many times, I've lost count."

"No. Not what I'm talking about. You're lost," Carlie said. "Lost soul, don't know what you're for. Didn't need to ask you. Could see it in your eyes."

"Am I really that predictable?" Peter said. "Jesus. Maybe I should change my whole approach before I go on a blind date next time."

Carlie shook her head 'no'. "Fine. Good to have that look. We all do at some point. Me included."

"Where are you going with all this? I gotta say, when you go on a blind date, you usually don't expect simple questions to turn into philosophy lessons."

Carlie once again spritzed her hands with sanitizer, leaned over the table, and grabbed both of Peter's hand. "Help. You need help. Find what you're for."

"Ok, holding hands on a first date? That's an achievement. I'm getting into total playboy territory," Peter joked.

To Peter's surprise, Carlie smiled at the joke and even laughed a little. In his ears, her laugh was about as nasal as her voice.

"Let's leave," Carlie suggested, to which Peter raised an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, we haven't eaten anything," he reminded her. "Might wanna do that first."

Carlie gasped and put her hands to her mouth, blushing intensely. "Stupid, stupid," she mumbled, which Peter picked up.

"Hey," Peter started. "Don't say that, you're not stupid, Carlie. Your mind slipped a little, no big deal. Hell, it even happens to me sometimes."

"Tell me," she said, nay demanded. "Come on. Talk."

The pair spent the whole time telling one another about themselves and all the strange stories about random things that happened. It was rare that Carlie's expression changed throughout the conversations, but when it did, Peter felt a sense of satisfaction for getting through to her.

_"This is something," _Peter thought. _"She might not be what I was expecting, but she's...different."_

* * *

**I decided to take a risk and write about a character that is quite controversial in the Spider-Man universe. Although she's not the same as the original. That's what fanfiction's for, isn't it?**


End file.
